


Familiar

by Pence



Series: The Archmage War [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Crime fighting monster mash squad, Fae & Fairies, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, The 'Gavin is turned into a cat' AU, The witch AU no one wanted, Warlocks, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pence/pseuds/Pence
Summary: “It’s a cat,” The witch deadpanned, glancing up to the face of his distraught brother.Connor shook his head, a fat tear rolling down the side of his nose as he sniffed a pathetic sniffle.“He’s my coworker.”





	1. Chapter 1

 

_“Bulliunt. Bulla. Vive. Mater, adiuva me.”_

 

Viscous, vile, vaporous liquid boiled against the edges of a caldron; foam climbing stickily up its porous walls before folding in on itself. A long wooden paddle spun along the cauldron’s edge, keeping the concoction moving by an invisible touch. Purple flames licked the sides of the pot from where it floated, bobbing in slow, languid arcs back and forth through the air.

 

_“Mater, pascat in potentia creaturae. Sanguinis fundatur in nomine tuo.”_

 

The sharp edge of a blade digs beneath the opal scales of a limp creature, long pale fingers cupped gently around its breast. The potion hisses and groans as it accepts each sparkling offering, noxious fumes releasing in blue wisps of smoke in understood acceptance. The tip of the blade pushes deeper into the flesh of the beast, green blood dripping slowly over white knuckles before trickling into the mouth of the cauldron.

Black nails, painted or otherwise, dug into the raw wound of the dead creature--increasing the lifeblood dripping down into the rapidly bubbling brew with a squeeze.

 

 _“Ruminant. Saporem. Hoc est_ sacrificium _mater. Suscipe_ eam meo _nom--”_

 

The slam of a door some distance away gave the deep baritone voice pause, thin lips pursed as the edges of the chant beat for release. Power surged at his fingertips, billowing the edges of dark robes and raking through coifed hair.

A sigh sounded in place of a finished spell as rapidly approaching footfalls followed the initial boom.

“ _Vale, mater. Redire ad_ somnum _. Iter in_ tenebris _est,_ ” Came the rushed recall of the spell; the reptile dropped entirely into the cauldron; spoiling the potion. The vibrant, churning liquid wheezed in displeasure as it consumed the sudden offering. It rose in violent chokes, spilling over the edges into the screaming violet fire; streaks of green flickering in flames with every droplet it eviscerated.

A raised hand and the snap of long fingers silenced the rapid rattling of the cauldron--fire and pot disappearing into the unknown.

“What a waste,” The witch murmured, icy eyes falling shut with the shake of a head as ornate robes dropped from thin shoulders. Feathers and trinkets jingled and ticked within its midnight folds as it was carefully hung on the edge of an overstuffed bookcase. Slender, yet broad palms smoothed the dark dress shirt that had been protected beneath as the disturbance finally made itself know.

“N-Nines!”

Bursting through the door came the witch’s reflection, albeit honeyed eyes and crimson-covered palms. The navy blue of a police uniform soaked dark with mud, blood, wet; streaking irritating marks across polished wood as the newcomer rushed across the room.  
  
Disgust and discomfort mingled like brothers in his stomach as Nine’s own curled filthy fingers into his arm.

“I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up--” The other sobbed, tracks of tears cutting through grime covered cheeks. A bundle was held securely to the other’s chest, uniformed shoulders heaving with breathless weepings.

After a moment’s hesitation, Nine hands rose to cup his twin’s cheeks, thumbs smoothing away tears from the soft divets of sunken eyes. The crying man continued his rant, pressing forward into the gentle touch with a short, choking sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fuc--”

“Connor,” The witch commanded, fingers pushing every so much pressure into high cheekbones. “What did you do? Is this your blood? Are you injured?”

Shame knit Connor’s brow as he closed his dark eyes, head begging to dip yet denied in Nines' grasp. A breath was forced in through his nose as he took a reluctant step back, shaking his head; arm pulling the bundle tighter to his chest.

“I fucked up, Nines,” The officer whispered needlessly, the oppressive quiet of the room threatening to consume his confession. Connor’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, reaching up to tug at the bundle in his arms.

What Nines had once believed to be a blanket turned out to be that of a faux leather jacket; synthetic material scuffed and worn with use. And tucked into its torn satin lining was that of feline, curled and wheezing short breaths.

Stepping forward, Nines towered over his hunched brother as he ran black nails through sandy-brown, blood-matted fur. Pale eyes under half-lids stared up at the witch, an extended, bleeding cut running between them over the arch of the animal’s snout.

Magic thrummed from the limp animal, electric under his fingertips. It was strange magic, unlike his own or his brother’s, and left the lingering taste of the Old Gods on his tongue.

But despite this, there existed nothing extraordinary about the obviously mix-bred and feral animal cradled within the crying man’s arms. It would be a mercy to snap the animal’s neck outright.

“It’s a cat,” The witch deadpanned, glancing up to the face of his distraught brother.

Connor shook his head, a fat tear rolling down the side of his nose as he sniffed a pathetic sniffle.

 

“He’s my coworker.”

 

\-----

 

“Fucking vampires!”

 

Bullets peppered the wall above their hiding place, sending chunks of chalkboard into their hair as the cafe’s ‘Flavour of the Day’ was shredded. Connor leaned his weight more heavily into his cursing companion, forcing him down further to the ground as he stared through the slats of their impromptu shelter.

Over the rise of cupcakes and valleys of pastries, Connor counted three figures blocking the entrance of the establishment; a forth standing behind their lurking, twisted forms with a gun held idly by taloned fingers.

The body beneath his own twitched with discomfort at the compromising position they had been forced into, but uncharacteristic resolve tempered the other’s typical brashness when faced with the danger rounding the tables a few strides away.

The Detroit’s Special Investigation Unit had been making headway in eradicating the Andronikov coven from the streets of the city over the past six months. Destroying old supernatural families, especially those ancient cults that had been making their fortune through criminal activity over centuries, was never an easy task for any breed of hunter --especially hunters forced to follow state regulations and protocols.

The opportunity the DPD: SIU had been waiting for came in the form of a leadership change within the Andronikov family. While speculative on what had destroyed the previous coven leader, Zlatko Andronikov was the perfect target: irrational, lazy, power hungry. Where the former leader had retained the families power through old money and political connections dating back to the early 18th century, Zlatko approached power by quantity over quality.

The Andronikov family had been a thorn in the city’s side for decades since their arrival and it was the sudden kidnappings and creation of thralls that sparked the need for action. There was no specific pattern when it came to the coven’s targets, the disadvantaged (primarily homeless) were the most common when it came to these kidnappings.

Connor flinched as a table was overturned with a violent kick, peeling laughter ringing over the clatter. A shove at his shoulder forced Connor back as the smaller man leaned up to glance through the slats of the display, stormy eyes flickering as if counting their targets.  
“Three thrawls and a handler,” The other detective said, glancing to Connor who gave a nod of understanding. As the sound of steps drew closer to their hiding place, the sudden smell of sweet nectars and fresh soil washed over the warlock’s nose.

The warlock glanced at his companion and frowned, noticing small twitches in the soft points of his ears. Despite Gavin Reed only being a half-breed, fae magic was volatile and dangerous. Unlike Connor who could channel his power through a conduit for better control, fae magic was living magic that took whatever form it so pleased.

As the floral warning drifted further into the cafe, the footsteps gave pause in their approach. The simplest supernatural creature understood a threat when it came to Olde magic.

A gun clicked at the warlock’s side.

“I can kill the handler if you can take care of the meat-sacks,” Gavin whispered, the soft points of his ears giving another small twitch as he clicked the safety from his service weapon.

Connor frowned, shifting onto his knees as he peeked through the display once more to try and formulate a last-minute gameplan. “We’ve been expressly ordered not to kill any thralls by Capta--”

The shorter man rolled his eyes before focusing a sour glare up at the warlock. “Where did I imply kill, motherfucker? Just deal with them, I don’t know. Turn then into frogs or bunnies, whatever you wanna do David Blaine.”

Before Connor could get another word in edgewise, Gavin rose to a hunched crouch and moved slowly along the counter. The warlock sighed and climbed similarly to his feet, rubbing his hands nervously together.

A blue glow washed over the detective’s face as the ring on his right hand began to cycle blue. Slipping it from long shaking fingers, the warlock didn’t stir as the metal band flattened with unnatural malleability as it was pressed to his right temple. Power surged through his body for a few, disorienting blinks--racing through his face to the tips of his fingers as the bright light of the conduit cycled blue, yellow, red, yellow, blue.

The eight-pointed star tattooed to the top of his hand burned by the time sense returned to the warlock and a booming gunshot rang through the air.

Shattered glass and hissing filled the cafe as the detective’s moved, using the brief distraction of the shattered window display to their advantage. Gavin paid little heed to the thralls as he stepped into the open, gun training on the vampire standing idly in the entrance.

As the nearest thrall screamed and raised it’s weapon to fire at the detective, white-hot heat curled around the wrist of the creature and gave a sharp, unseen yank. With the sharp twist of his arm, Connor sent the beast flying back into another advancing thrall--a table shattering under their combined weight.

The previously idle vampire snarled furiously at the gun trained on it, forcing one of the thralls to stand perfectly between itself and the armed detective. Every step Gavin took, every sway of his hips or shift of his shoulders, was mirrored by the dead-eyes teenager.

A living meat-shield. There was no clean shot.

Before Connor could aim his own blast of power at the creature, hands grabbed onto his ankles and yanked his feet from under him. He barely had time to get his hands under him to catch the fall, severe vibrations from a sudden impact rushing up his forearms.

Fingers grappled into the folds of his uniform as mouths of blunt teeth snapped wetly at his ear. His arms were pinned awkwardly beneath him as weight was pressed into his shoulder blades as the nearest thrall wrapped thick fingers around his neck from behind.

“Gavi--!” The pressure on his throat was inhuman and feral, bruising, crushing, suffocating. The warlock choked as tears sprung to his eyes, bucking under the added weight of a second thrall as he tried to free his arms. Darkness bled into the corner of his eyes, as he scrambled uselessly, deaf to everything beyond the buzzing in his ears and the sloppy growls of the thralls assaulting him.

And suddenly, fire erupted and air returned. Wet heat soaked the back of Connor’s uniform as a body fell limp to the side and boots came parallel to his line of sight. Someone screamed somewhere as another gunshot rang out, startling the warlock back into reality. His eyes ached as he coughed and wheezed, pushing up onto his hands and knees.

“I thought you were supposed to be fucking powerful as shit, Eight!” A rough voice snarled--Gavin--as a kick was aimed at a screaming thrawl, fingers tearing at a gunshot wound in its thigh.

Turning his head, Connor came face to face with the blank, dead eyes of the other that had attacked him; a perfect gunshot wound to the center of its forehead. Bile rose from the sudden churn of his stomach, and it took everything in his power to swallow it back down an aching throat.

“F-Fowler said not to--”

“Fowler can suck on my magic dick,” The half-fae snarled, grabbing Connor by a bloodsoaked shoulder, effectively yanking him to his feet.

A bell jingled at the front of the store, disrupting the detectives from their spat as the watched the vampire and remaining thrall make a break for it around the corner. Cursing loudly, Gavin released the stumbling warlock and took off after the pair; hopping over broken glass and turned over pastries as he selected a shortcut through the shattered window.

Releasing a shaky breath, Connor pulled his cell phone from within his soaking uniform as he followed the other detective after a short beat.

 

“I need an ambulance and back up at 1839 West--”

 

\-----

 

It was never difficult to track the movement of fae--although a foolhardy task in itself. The anger and frustration Gavin was certain feeling had turned the smell of Olde magic foul; overripe succulents and swampy, sticky mud.

The pursuit had turned into a series of alleyways at the side of the cafe, overturned trash cans littering as remnants. The warlock’s long strides zigzagged around the obstacles as he tried to catch up, the bright red light of his conduit painting haunted shadows along brick walls surround him.

The fae magic grew stronger, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck, as Connor rounded the nearest corner leading into a small, stone courtyard. He came to an abrupt stop, the toes of his boot knocking into his partner’s discarded gun.

The shorter detective stared back into wide brown eyes with empty, half-lidden blue--head lulling into a clawed hand. His shoulders leaned bodily back into the vampire they had been hunting; a strong arm coiled around his waist as support. Blood flowed heavily from the wound in his neck as monstrous teeth kneaded deeper into the flesh--claws scratching into the detective’s face as the creature moaned sensually around the mouthful.

Wind abruptly swirled around the courtyard, kicking up dust and ruffling the clothing of the three inhabitants.

The warlock's voice boomed into the night. "Get away from him!"

Lazy, eyes of black sclera glanced up to the warlock, hold tightening around its unresponsive meal. A claw tore down the center of the detective's face in a violent, slow line--if only to provoke the other more.

Fury and fire rushed through the warlock, the chocolate locks of his hair dancing with the flames licking across his fingertips. The cupping of his palm collected the light into a single ball, pulsing with streaks of blue, yellow, red in tandem with his swirling conduit.

Taloned fingers snapped.

Connor froze.

Stepping into the clearing came the third, dead-eyed thrall from earlier, a girl no older than fourteen--pressing a gun to her own temple.

"I would put that magic away if I were you," Dripped a low, heavily accented voice. The unresponsive detective was shifted in the vampire's grasp as his neck was released, blood spilling freely down the man's shoulder.

The claws pet through blood-matted locks as a toothy, pink grin was directed at Connor.

"I know you," the vampire hissed seductively, ebony eyes flickering momentarily to the thrall turning to stand at his side. "The failed apprentice of Amanda Stern."

The fire in Connor's hand licked out of existence as he stood his ground, wavering as fear pulsed ice through his veins. He hadn't heard mention of his previous mistress in a good year's time, having done everything in his power to separate his present from his past.

"You don't know me," Came his uncertain snarl, eyes narrowing at the widening, inhuman grin of the vampire.

"But I do. That imbecile Zlatko may not value the old blood ties of our family, but he is alone in that regard. Lady Stern is a dear, dear friend."

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat, turning his gaze to his increasingly paling partner. If he couldn't get to him immediately, the man would certainly die.

"Sounds like you're all fucking imbeciles if you think Amanda is remotely trustworthy," The warlock growled, turning a fierce gaze back to the vampire as it gave an uncaring shrug.

The beast laughed as he leaned back down into his captive's neck, nosing against the raw teeth marks. "Trustworthy or not, the reward of your capture and return to our Lady will taste just as delicious as your friend."

A twisted, inhuman tongue lapped along Gavin's neck and up his cheek, the empty black eyes of the vampire never leaving Connor's face.

The safety of the gun at the teenagers head gave an audible click as it was released, the thralls empty eyes watching every twitch the warlock made.

Cold sweat beaded at Connor's neck as he juggled the moral dilemma in front of him. Saving Gavin would inevitably result in another innocent death... But running or giving up would be the end of his partner. Another innocent death.

There was no winnable situation when balancing action versus inaction; no situation where he came out on top without blooding his hands.

It was beneficial that he wasn't a good person to begin with.

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered to the unhearing thrall as magic once more licked up his arms. The vampire's previously smug grin fell into a hissing snarling, pulling Gavin's limp form up as a defensive shield.

Destructive magic wasn't going to aid in his efforts in this situation, however--

 

_"Turn then into frogs or bunnies, whatever you wanna do David Blaine."_

 

\--life magic might just work.

Light flooded Connor's vision as he extended his hand outward, conduit spiraling red red red as power surged from his body. A gunshot sounded beneath the roaring wave as it engulfed the figures ahead.

Petals swept up in an invisible cyclone as the dead thrall hit the ground, bursting into flora.

The vampire screamed as his flesh was ripped away by the light, eyes squeezing shut as Gavin was released. The detective hit the ground in a dead heap, legs curling in on himself.

Connor's own screaming mingled with the other's as his conduit stuttered, raw magic lashing out of him in violent tendrils--hands shaking in their effort to continue focusing on the crumbling vampire.

And just like that, the screaming stopped as Connor's knees hit cement.

The stone, crumbling form of the vampire was frozen in death, forearms shielding its face in a silent cower--jowls wide in a breathless scream. The night breeze tore the form away granule by granule, kicking up in a gust over the towering building and consumed by the stars.

Pulling himself to his feet, Connor stumbled, and half crawled over to the bundled lump of Gavin's jacket. Guilt settled heavily in his gut as hot tears threatened the warlock's eyes, falling onto aching knees once again.

The other man was gone.

His hands shook violently as he reached down to take the jacket, blood still warm against the palm of his hand.

What he hadn't expected to feel was soft fur against the slow rise and fall of a tiny ribcage.

 

"G-Gavin?!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather short chapter but I didn't think a break to a new scene fit well within it. The next chapter will be significantly longer (not really but, like, 3000 words as per usual) so enjoy Gavin waking up.

 

 

“I just don’t understand…”

 

 

The world spun as Gavin fell in and out of consciousness, stars painted behind the lids of his eyes. Pain lanced in white meteorites as he drifted aimlessly through space, throbbing hotly against the chill of nothingness surrounding him. Breathing clawed raggedly at this throat and ached his ribs with every slow rise of his chest.

“There is nothing to understand. It’s done.”

Strangely, he felt safe in the void’s embrace. Despite his lazy bobbing through the endless vacuum, invisible pressure fit snugly around him. While he was never someone who found comfort in the supernatural, the magic that fizzled against his fingertips wasn’t malevolent in its existence. It kissed reassuring promises to his cheeks and licked the taste of rich herbs against his tongue.

“I just worry…”

Spectral fingers raked gently through his hair and down his sides as Gavin drifted towards the light; sensations of reality beginning to replace his beautiful, corporeal dream. Heat flooded his space-frozen muscles, body sinking into the comfort of living warmth. A heartbeat beat against his ear, slow and calm as the voices around him continued their quiet conversation.

The man was inclined to return back to sleep when the gentle brush of fingers returned once more-- impossibly large and impossibly real.

Cracking open his eyes, Gavin hissed softly as the light of fire burned spots into his retinas. It took a few blinks for his vision to clear before he was staring up at a large room of dark wood and overstuffed shelving. Shadows crept like dark specters in the corners of the room, dancing slow and languidly with every flicker from the hearth.

“I’m fine, Connor.”

The fingers flattened into a warm, comforting palm; passing across his shoulders before smoothing back over his skull. Fuck, it felt nice...

A rumbling sound bubbled up from his throat unconsciously, vibrations fluttering against his chest.

Wait, what the fuck?

Blinking into alertness, Gavin’s head ached as he chanced a glance upwards. Over a towering valley of pressed fabric and the chiseling marble of a well-defined chin, Gavin locked eyes with icy blue.

 

  
**WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK?!**

 

The throbbing remnants of pain became white hot as Gavin jerked away from the giant, tumbling ungracefully from the lap he’d been laid upon. Polished wood flooring met his desperate scramble, sending painful jolts up his limbs. There was a desperate cry from somewhere in the room as he climbed unsteadily to his feet; the detective uncertain if it was his own startled yell.

“Gavin, shit!”

Those same, impossibly high eyes watched him impassively and set the hairs standing on the back of his neck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu--

A new pair of hands closed around his chest, fingers tucking beneath his arms as he was lifted from the ground. His already fluttering heart beat faster against his ribcage, igniting a desperate struggle to escape. Gavin screamed and snarled, cold fear lancing through his stomach as his voice registered at a higher pitch than he’d ever been able to produce before.

“Gavin! Ow, shit! Detective Reed, it's me, Connor!”

Connor?

The detective hissed in pain as he twisted violently to stare up into the large, panicked brown eyes of his partner. And, once again, he was looking into the face of a fucking giant.

While his heart continued to slam against his chest, his struggles calmed as he was pulled more securely to the familiar blue of the warlock’s uniform. Dizziness washed over him, muffling the rushed reassurance that rumbled against the breast he was cradled to. Unconsciousness beckoned like a long, lost friend; one he might have indulged--

Had he not noticed the soft fur against his tucked legs and the tail that hung between.

“Ah! Gavin!”

The giant who had been petting him previously rumbled with laughter, watching the pair with cold mirth glittering in his eyes.

“It seems your partner has figured out the predicament he’s in.”

A cat. He was a fucking cat. And if there was one person in this room solely responsible for it--

“Ow! Gavin stop! Are you actually aiming for my face?!”

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME CONNOR?!’_   The detective snarled in piercing shrieks, the hair on his neck standing on end as he attempted to swipe once more for the warlock’s face. The angry red scratch he’d managed to land on Connor’s neck was entirely satisfying.

Connor didn’t--or perhaps couldn’t--respond to Gavin’s hissing snarls, moving with quick hops back to the couch the other sat upon and deposited the fuming cat onto the cushions. The detective climbed once more to his feet, back arched as he glared up at the panicked warlock.

_‘Change me the fuck back!’_

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” The man beside him said, long leg crossing over the other as he stared down at the furious feline.

Connor blinked in tandem with Gavin, two pairs of eyes turning to glance at the other’s impassive face.

“You understand him, Nines?”

_‘You speak fucking cat?’_

“Yes. No,” Nines huffed, glancing from Connor to Gavin in order. “A great deal of my studies have revolved around Olde magick--those of the Ancients and the Fae. I don’t know the exact words he is saying, but it seems that the fae blood within Detective Reed allows for an interpretation of his will through magic.”

Connor frowned, glancing between the two as Gavin stared up at Nines.

_‘What a pretentious, fucking prick.’_

“Coincidentally, it seems that the ancient fae certainly had crooked tongues,” The witch deadpanned, glaring back at the feline.

“What did you mean when you said it wasn’t that simple?” Connor asked before the cat could snarl once again. Nines’ gaze weighed heavily on Gavin, discomfort ruffling his fur. Like a fucking beetle in a jar…

“What I meant?” The witch hummed, finally glancing away from the cat. “The fae blood within this man acted as a conduit for your magic. Olde magick is volatile and selfish, hungry for any power that presents itself. In this instance, the spell you cast upon the vampire was reinterpreted by Detective Reed’s own magic.”

“And what does that mean?”

Nines glanced down to the cat and smirked.

 

“Congratulation, Gavin. You cursed yourself.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about this fic! I've been busy with work and life has decided to beat me up behind Denny's quite a few times in the past few weeks.
> 
> I plan to continue this through to the end! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Please consider following my AO3 tumblr for WIPs and update announcements.
> 
> pencewrites.tumblr.com

  
“I am not harboring your pet.”

Nines could feel the bristle of fae magic tickling the edges of his own spectral power; furious, frustrated, terrified. Gavin. The stubborn cat paced the corners of the room, limping with every step yet unable to sit still.

Perhaps a spell to force the animal, fae, human, whatever to rest might be called for should Gavin put too much stress on his injuries.

Nines was entirely unimpressed by the desperate widening of his brother’s manipulative doe-eyes.

“Please, Nines,” The warlock begged, long fingers clasping in silent prayer towards an uncaring god. “You’re far more versed in white magic than I am and…”

Connor sighed, prayer dismissed as he raked a shaking hand through his blood-matted hair. “I already fucked up and put him into this situation. I don’t want to--I don’t want to hurt him even more.”

 _‘Do you believe this shit?’_ The fae magic whispered, resigned and aggressive in its toneless snarl. Nines glanced back to the cat sat in the corner, watching the two with a furious sparkle in its gray eyes. _‘Motherfucker pulls this shit all the time on Anderson and has the fucking wolfman wrapped around his little finger. But he’s right--’_

_‘--he’ll only fuck this shit up worse, the bastard.’_

Nines’ lips twitched as he repressed his smirk, choosing to kindly keep his older brother uninformed of Gavin’s harsh, yet valid, opinion. Turning back to the warlock, the younger man let a soft sigh pass over his lip before tipping his head in curt agreement.

“I will keep your partner for a month’s time while I attempt to reverse the curse,” He muttered in agreement, tucking his thumbs through the belt loops of his slacks, staring down his nose at Connor. “If I am unable to make progress or your cat proves a burden, you will come to collect him.”

“Or I take him to the pound myself.”

_‘Blow me, Sabrina.’_

Relief was quick to wash over Connor’s face, broad smile contrasting the blood still caked to his cheek. Nine ignored the tickle of his discomfort as arms were thrown around his neck and instead focused on disgust as he was pulled against a filthy uniform. Guess he was burning this dress shirt…

“Thank you! If anyone can help him, it’s you!” Connor hummed, enthusiasm and gratitude dripping from his sickeningly honeyed words. His hands remained on Nine’s shoulders as he pulled back, wide grin falling into a sheepish smile at the wrinkle of distaste on his younger brother’s nose.

“Just make sure it’s a no-kill shelter if it comes to it.”

_‘What the actual fuck!’_

A baritone chuckle rumbled in the witch’s chest, before tipping his chin in a curt nod.

“Of course, brother.”

 

\-----

 

Throughout the next few days, Nines decided that he didn’t particularly care for the cat taking refuge in his home. On more than one occasion, he would be preparing a potion in his study only to hear the shatter of glass across the house.

 _‘I don’t know why I did that,’_ would be the rather uncaring excuse of the cat sitting on his shelf, twin eyes staring down at the bottle of toadwart scattered across the polish wood floor.

That excuse didn’t exactly hold up long when the cat continued to pap things off of high place with the swing of its paws.

Whether out of kindness or necessity, he’d even gone so far as to buy a few cans of cat food and had set one out for the cat. It was questionable whether or not the human’s pallet had changed with this curse--but it was that or nothing.

If Nines was curious at all regarding Gavin’s opinion of the meal, he found out when a can of Sweet Angel’s Supper splashed into his bubbling cauldron; spoiling the emerald potion as the fumes of tuna spread through the room.

The detective stared back impassively at the disgruntled glare of the witch, tail swinging back-and-forth like a pendulum from his perch on the hearth. ‘

_‘That one I meant to do.’_

Nines had always been a solitary person, enjoying the peace of a quiet and uneventful home--aside from the occasional visit of a spirit or two. He was a man of order with a base schedule for even the most mundane tasks. Tea before at a certain hour-on-the-hour, cleaning completion due before the sun was at a certain angle in the sky.

But to have additional responsibilities heaped upon him. It might have been easier had the cat been merely a cat.

By the dark mother, it might have been easier had it been a cursed human.

It was rather unfortunate that it had been fae.

Fae magic was slightly sticky and chaotic in the presence of rivaled power. While simpler potions for his more mundane clients were successful, more complex spells and brews were often spoiled by the presence of Olde magic alone.

When attempting to brew a vicious toxic potion commissioned by a local gang of werewolves, he’d turned away for a moment to collect his notes when the entire cauldron had crack cleanly down the middle.

Fresh soil spilled to the fire in place of the acidic violet potion, smothering the flame as the greenest of vines began to twist into his floorboards. Nines could only stand and watch impassively as his cauldron was consumed by the loveliest flower; lips pressed thinly together, eyes unblinking.

Turning on his heel, it didn’t take long for the witch to locate the cat watching him unreadable from a cushioned hair in the corner; tail continuing to swish, swish, swish over the soft fabric.

Gavin’s howls and spits of fury after being locked in a closet across the house would have been easily ignorable had every potion he’d attempted to brew afterward not erupted into various horrors of nature.

The cat walked smugly out of the closet when the witch had finally, reluctantly, released him from the cloak cupboard--locusts continuing to buzz noisily throughout the house.

“I believe it’s time we come to an understanding,” Nines spoke as the last of the locusts he could locate were burned away into spectral nothingness. Gavin had taken up the arm of a sofa with the small library adjacent to the witch’s study, watching the witch with heavy lids; the fireplace lulling the room with a cozy warmth that wasn’t quite meeting Nines’ frigid temper.

Taking a seat in an armchair, the witch crossed a leg over the other and watched as the cat uncurled itself in order to stretch out its spine. Irritation prickled the witch as the cat’s claw’s audible punctured into the fabric of the cushions. The fae magic laughed at him.

 _‘Are you finally going to get off your ass and change me back?’_ Gavin asked, launching them straight to topic rather than offering a polite acceptance to Nines’ suggestion.

Black nails scratch irritably against the nine-pointed star on the back of his hand. A frustrated tick.

“Your recovery is required before I can attempt blood magic on you,” The witch said over the soft crackle of the fire as if such a fact should have been evident from the start. The cat’s ears twitched as he sat down to watch Nines, fire dancing in the pools of his eyes.

 _‘Blood magic? Just reverse the fucking spell. Say the mantra backward or something,’_ The detective huffed irritably, ignorant to the taste of fear Nines sensed lingering in the cat’s magic. _‘I don’t mind having a sore neck and a few scars as a human.’_

“But you aren’t,” Nines deadpanned, releasing his hand to drum his dark nails on his knee instead. “That’s what makes this more difficult. Whatever spell my idiot brother cast was embraced by your own magic. This is no glamour or temporary curse. You are biologically and physically feline.”

There was the taste of soil and fury again as the fae magic lashed briefly against his own tempered power. Gavin glared.

_‘Fucking Eight…’_

“I agree. Fuck Connor.”

The cat’s tail paused in its slow, lazy taps against the cushions of the couch--taken by surprise at the crass agreement from the otherwise orderly witch.

Nines found he enjoyed the floral scent of humor and the soft pricks of malicious thorns.

_‘So I just need to recover, you said?’_

“Yes. It would also be equally beneficial if you were to control your power,” Nines added after a brief nod, leaning to the side to rest his chin upon his hand. “Fae magic is volatile and has already proven detrimental to even my most basic of work. I am not cruel enough to attempt dangerous magic on you if it risks destroying you further.”

The cat let out a soft rumble as it considered the witch’s words, paws kneading unconsciously into the cushions.

 _‘I’ve never had control over it,’_ Gavin finally admitted after a brief pause, shame dripping heavily in his admission. _‘I never really knew my father, and he was gone by the time this whole magic thing started. Mom was a human and couldn’t really help me either so… ‘_

_‘Was already at the end of high school when I learned about my heritage.’_

“Elijah Kamski.”

The cat blinked in confusion.

_‘How the fuck--’_

“It isn’t often you come across fae within Detroit,” Nine shrugged, nails pressing into his cheek as he watched the cat with cool eyes. “To know of two with proficiencies for terra magick is an explanation in and of itself.”

The cat bristled, jerking its head to the side to watch the flames dance within the fireplace.

_‘Yeah. He’s my half-brother.’_

“And why did you not seek him out?”

 _‘I did,’_ Gavin hissed, ears falling back against his skull. _‘He would not see me. I just… It was proving a burden, especially going into adulthood. Mom was getting sick. Money was tight. I couldn’t hold down a job without fucking it up somehow because…’_

Nines remained quiet as the cat lapsed into silence, watching the frustrated wrinkle of its nose pinch at the fresh scratch between its eyes. Perhaps it was more profound than the simple control of magic. Fae magic especially was profoundly affected by the emotional state of its caster and these past few days had certainly been rocky.

Releasing a sigh, the witch stood and crossed the few short steps it took to reach the small loveseat Gavin was perched upon. Distrust was clear in the sparkle of the cat’s stormy eyes, but there came no protest when the couch dipped under Nines’ weight.

“May I?” Nines asked, motioning to the gauze that had been gingerly applied to the cat’s neck. There was a moment's pause for the cat agreed, turning its head to allow the witch to undress the wound.

“Perhaps it might be beneficial to call upon your brother for aid,” Nines said, ignoring the prickle of the panic from the hovering fae magic. Strange that it smelled of sickly sweet honey. “I have only worked sparingly with Olde magic, and I’m not foolish enough to spin a dangerous spell without doing my research.”

The cat’s lids dropped at the gentle press of the witch’s long finger, turning his head when instructed for Nines to better assess the healing progress. While still inflamed, the puncture wounds were healing nicely, and the clotting blood was giving way to fresh scar tissue.

 _‘He’ll demand a price,’_ Gavin’s magic whispered against Nines’ ear, sending goosebumps up the witch’s arms at the intimacy by which it tickled his neck.

“Is that what he demanded of you? A boon?”

 _‘Boon? What the fuck year is it?’_ The cat sassed lazily, ignorant of the soft purs that rumbled from its chest as a salve was applied and clean bandages wound.

“You are deflecting,” Nines murmured as he began to rebandaged the wound. The cat let out a puff of irritation.

_‘He… He wanted me to leave my mother and my life to live with him. Said that it was dangerous to live within mortal society and offered to teach me how to control my power.’_

“And you rejected the offer.”

The cat bristled furiously, staring hard into the fire as Nines finished treating the wound. _‘Fuck yes I did. Fuck that pompous creep. I’d rather duke it out with bloodsuckers and wolfmen any day than sell my life over to some hermit motherfucker. I wasn’t going to just abandon my mom.’_

The fury behind the cat’s expression melted into exhaustion as quickly as it had flared, lids drooping once more. He did not react to the long fingers that brushed into his hair and scratched behind his ears; even going so far as to unconsciously pressing into the attention.

“And she died,” Nines concluded by the cat’s resignation, passing his fingers down the cat’s spine. There was a rumble of confirmation as Gavin’s eyes closed completely, relaxing into the gentle pets and scritches.

“Will you work with me if I promise to take the burden of Kamski’s demands?” Nines whispered, mesmerized by the sudden dismissal of fae magic in the room. Perhaps it honestly did center around mood and comfort.

Gavin’s eyes cracked open as he ducked Nine’s next stroke, turning to glance up at the attentive witch.

_‘That’s too much to offer.’_

“I can always refuse him when we reach negotiations.”

_‘You don’t under--’_

**Knock, knock.**

 

Gavin tensed as curt knocking sounded from the front door; a patient tap, tap, tap that Richard did not appear surprised to hear. Releasing a sigh, the witch stood from his seat and crossed to the door of the library.

He chose to ignore the sound of light feet following at his heel.

Gavin remained at the top of the stairs as the witch descended and crossed to a large pair of ornate oak doors, stained dark to match the overall gothic aesthetic the witch had been going for. Nines was tempted to roll his eyes when he could sense disapproval of the decor radiating from the detective’s magic.

Pulling open the heavy door, Nines was quick to bow his head and draw it open the rest of the way, casting his eyes to the floor.

The clicking of heels sounded on the tile of the front foyer, muffling as they stepped onto an ornate rug covering most of the ivory stone.

“Good evening, Mistress,” The witch murmured, only looking up as a cloak was thrust into his arms.

Amanda smiled.

 

“Good evening, Richard.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that I changed the previous chapter before posting it as this one would have been VASTLY different. Here we go guys, now we are diving into the actual plot plot that affects all off our sad lads. 
> 
> By the way, I wanted to thank you all for the WONDERFUL response I received last chapter. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying yourselves.

 

 

“How are your studies coming along, my pet?”

 

Steam curled lazily from the floral teacup as amber swirled mid-pour, darkening and hiding the intricate detailing beneath a heated pool.

Amanda watched the preparation with hooded eyes, lashes tickling the lovely age lines pulling at her lids as manicured nails folded in her lap. A dash of cream and a single sugar cube were deposited into the cup; milk clouding the design further and solidified with the swirl of a teaspoon.

Always perfect. The way she liked him. How she taught him.

“I have been finding it difficult to commune with the dark mother as of late,” The witch admitted in subdued baritone, taking up the tea saucer gently before passing it across the coffee table.

The room was comfortably shadowed, warm light from the fireplace illuminating their quiet meeting and casting somber autumn across the room.

He spoke carefully with short pauses amid a stilled tongue, choosing his words precisely within his mistress’ company. “My incantations and spells have remained the same, yet something is interrupting my connection. Is there something happening in the city, ma'am?”

Amanda followed him over the rim of her cup, gaze unblinking and eyes unreadable. She remained quiet, listening to the crackling of wood within the fireplace--only speaking when her cup gentle clicked as it was replaced to the saucer.

“There is,” She confessed quietly as if divulging a secret only to be shared between the pair. They were alone, were they not? “I believe you will find that complications may arise in the coming months, pet. Power is up for grabs within Detroit, and we’ve many competitors coming out of the woodworks.”

Movements flickered in the corner of Nines’ eye, lips pulling into a deep frown. Gavin lurked at the edges of the room, favoring the darkness the flames could not touch. He might have been entirely unnoticeable had his eyes not reflected eerily in their direction, curious and concerned.

“Power?”

“Mm,” The woman hummed, staring down into the contents of her cup as her gaze grew distant. She remained silent for a moment more before glancing up to her student, chin held high and expression unconvincingly neutral.

“Carl Manfred is dead.”

If Nines were a lesser man--had signs of weakness not been weaned out of him at Amanda’s hand--he might have spilled tea across the dark wood of the coffee table. Curling his hand around the base of the pot, Nines sat back and cradled it in front of his chest, task lost to him as he stared at the woman before him.

Carl Manfred is, or had been, the Archmage of this district. Ancient beyond mortal comprehension, his protection had been cast around much of the Midwest, spreading much into Canada; sought after by the desperate within the magical world. He had been a benevolent man and reserved in his power, forgiving to those who crossed him while unmoving to those who crossed those he protected.

Even as a young boy, Nines could only dream that the sparkles he could produce from the tips of his fingers might one day rival the power of Archmage Manfred.

“I don’t understand,” He murmured, brows knitting in confusion. Amanda didn’t attempt to mask the disappointment that tugged at her frown, gaze leaving his own to instead look at the cat that had been slowly wandering closer to the pair.

Lips pursing, she chose not to change the subject and returned her attention to the witch.

“He is dead and so too is his hold on this land,” The woman sighed, bringing the teacup back to her lips. “Chaos ensues.”

“No,” The witch murmured, shaking from his reverie to replace the teapot upon the table. “I do not understand how he died. While elderly, he appeared quite healthy at the last summ--”

“You are asking if he was murdered.”

“Yes.”

Gazes locked, the pair found themselves in a standoff of sorts, firelight flickering suspicious shadows beneath their eyes. The woman smiled as he looked away first, shame flickering in the pull of his frown.

“Ah, I see. You are asking if I was the one who destroyed him.”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Leaning forward, Amanda replaced the saucer on the table and stood, smoothing out the front of her dress. Heels clicked as she rounded the table to her apprentice who starred unseeing at a bristling Gavin, jaw set with masked fear.

Nines only looked up as twin hands cupped his chin, turned his head to face directly at the woman leaning over him.

“What would I gain if I had been the one to slice the old man’s throat?” Amanda whispered, voice barely carrying over the crackling fire.

Nines Adam's apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed, frozen in place as he gazed up at the superior witch. Painted nails traced the arch of his cheekbones as her grasp tightened, pressing threateningly into his skin.

His voice came out in a soft exhale as he remembered to breathe, back stiff and immobile.

_“Everything.”_

Amanda smiled as she released him, stepped around his shaking knees in order to stand before the fire. “Then let us not question a blessing, my love.”

 

\-----

 

Nines sighed and pressed his fingers against his temples as he battled a raging headache. It wasn’t uncommon that rivaling power left the lesser in bad straights; painful reminders to toe the line and of their place.

 

“I will call upon you sooner than you know,” Amanda had said some-hours ago as he had helped her into her cloak. “I expect you to be ready when the time comes.”

“Ready for what?”

“ _When the time comes_ ,” She repeated sternly, turning to face him in front of the door. Leaning up, the woman placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, hands reaching up to curl around his biceps.

“I do love you, you know,” Amanda had whispered, running her palms comfortingly up his arms.

The man remained silent albeit offering her a small nod of acknowledgment as his gaze flickered to the dark floorboards beneath their feet. He was released after a short squeeze to his shoulders, heels clicking as she stepped to the door.

Cold wind pushed into the ornate foyer as heavy wood was pulled open.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Amanda hummed, turning back to face him with one foot out into the evening chill. “Get rid of that cat. I do not know nor care for the animal’s history--but I can tell you that even the presence of fae magic comes with a price.”

In the present, Nines shifted to lay back across the sofa, staring up into the dark rafters of his study.

“You have nothing to offer them,” Her words echoed, bouncing off of exposed beams and into the spiderwebs out of his reach. “I own all that you are. What you pay to the fae comes from my coffers. Get rid of it.”

With a soft groan, the witch closed his eyes and dug the heels of his hands into his lids. He said nothing as an unseen weight hopped onto his chest, nails pressing painlessly to the fabric of his shirt.

Gavin was silent, allowing the witch a moments more to stew before speaking. _'She killed him.’_

“It is not your business, cat,” Nines grumbled darkly, not bothering to remove his hands from his eyes. Despite his grating tone, the soft breeze of crisp summer breeze tickled his nose. He would never admit his gratitude as he sucked in a breath.

 _‘Seems it is given that I fuckin’ catch murderers and monsters for a living,’_ Gavin grumbled, sitting down as he stared at the exhausted witch. His tail tickled the exposed skin peeked from beneath Nine’s shirt, pulling up by his raised arms.

With a groan, the witch dropped his hands from his face, glaring up at the judgemental gleam within the cat’s eyes.

“There is nothing to be done,” He stated matter-of-factly, brows knitting as the cat’s head inclined ever so slightly.

_‘You could tell Conn--’_

“ **No**.” His answer was firm and gave little room for protest. Nines was unsurprised when the breeze of fae magic went rancid. “Connor need not involve hims--”

 _‘What's his history with Amanda?’_ Gavin interrupted, ears twitching as he blinked down at the man. _‘I try not to get involved in this magic shit, but even I know who Stern is. You and your brother are connected to her--so what’s Connor’s deal? Why shouldn’t he know?’_

“It is not my story to tell.”

  
The cat bristled, ears falling back against his skull. _‘Bullshit.’_

Gavin flinched as a hand was raised, but allowed the witches long fingers to stroke along his cheek. Neither commented as he leaned into the gentle touch, eyes falling half-lidded.

“Connor will tell you in his own time. I’m afraid his history with Amanda is unpleasant and one I do not enjoy recounting,” Nines murmured, smiling gently as the cat turned its to head to direct his fingers into a more ideal spot for a scratch.

 _‘....Do you need saving?’_ Gavin asked after a few comfortable moments, opening his eyes to look down at the witch once more. _‘Do you serve her willingly or…?’_

Nines’ small smile fell at the question. Sitting up, the man shifted sideways to slide the cat more easily into his lap; being careful to avoid the healing injuries and sores.

“I am… fine,” The witch concluded, turning his gaze to the fire as he continued to stroke down the animal’s spine. The smell of cut grass tickled his nose--the cat embarrassed as the rumble of purrs left his throat unwillingly.

Nines smirked but said nothing.

They sat like that for a time, twin minds marveling over the horrors and possibilities a city with Archmage Manfred offered. The idea of turning against his mistress was unthinkable--but he wasn’t foolish enough to know that beneath Amanda’s rule, the city and her people were in danger.

 _‘....I think you’re right about finding Elijah,’_ Gavin murmured from where he laid in the witch’s lap, cheek pressed against the man’s thigh. His gaze reflected the fire as he watched the flames dance.

_‘I need to be human again more than anything and…. Elijah cared deeply for Carl Manfred. If you can’t tell Connor, you should at least tell Kamski--even if he’s an insufferable twat who likely won’t do shit.’_

Nines frowned down at the cat, hand pausing mid-stroke. At the sudden loss of gentle caressed, Gavin lifted his head to look up into the worried witch’s stare.

Amanda’s warning rung true in his head as he watched the animal and embraced the gentle kiss of its magic across his neck. Despite his promise to the cat regarding a deal with the fae, perhaps now was not the time to be playing such games.

Perhaps he should just get rid of the--

 

_‘Thank you, by the way.’_

 

Nines’ mind went blank as he blinked down at the cat. “What?”

 _‘Don’t make me fucking say--’_ The cat let out a soft huff before plopping back down in his lap, returning its gaze to the fire. _‘.... Thank you for helping me and, I guess, for not turning me into a toad or whatever.’_

“.... Why would I turn an already enchanted cat into--”

_‘Y’know what? Forget it. I hope you fucking trip, choke, and die.’_

Gavin looked up as the witch started to shake, staring with wide eyes at the grin Nines’ attempted to hastily hide behind his hand. Soft laughter forced its way through his fingers, head shaking in both amusement and disappointment.

“Very well. We will seek out your brother tomorrow.”

_‘Really?’_

Nines nodded and leaned back into the sofa as he resumed stroking his fingers through Gavin’s fur.

“Perhaps he might be able to shed light on not only your condition but the line of succession should an Archmage fall.”

His smile fell as his gaze toward the blazing fire turned cold.

 

“War is coming and Detroit's weeps should a stained soul be anointed ruler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping me a kudos and/or a comment below! Even the simplest 'I liked it!' spurs me on and keeps me coming back with more stuff!
> 
> You can follow me at:
> 
> Tumblr: pencewrites.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/penxes
> 
> Thank you again for reading! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically part 1 of the Elijah chapter. 
> 
> However, as I was writing this, I decided it was a much clearer read if I seperate their arrival between them meeting itself. As I have most of the Eljiah chapter completed, you can probably expect to see this updated again by next week. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone's patience and the number of new readers that have arrived, hello!
> 
> Please check out this fanart by Archrui on tumblr (and twitter, I think)! It's amazing!
> 
> https://archrui.tumblr.com/post/181487431807/check-out-one-of-my-favorite-fanfics-familiar-by

 

 

Despite the lingering storm clouds on the horizon, the morning cast the countryside in golden splendor. Frozen dew melted under the suns bright awakening and, greens that had survived the early frosts of winter, drank in the beams with greedy, desperate gasps.

It was the sort of picturesque morning one might find on a cliched greeting card or mass-produced painting in a clinic waiting room.  
  
Nines wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and retreat.  
  
Fingers tightening on the steering wheel, the witch stewed with exhausted irritation from behind dark shades perched on his nose. There was no diagnosed phobia of the outdoors he could hide behind or a busy schedule that required his attention back at home. He just preferred the quiet and dark solace that the halls of his residence provided. The world locked away from his spun spells--deaf to his incantations and bargains to the spectral entities on the other side.  
  
Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone and had a mission to attend to.  
  
Another shot of irritation lanced through the witch as he glanced towards the passenger seat and the cat curled lazily onto his folded coat. The cursed detective stared back under the droop of heavy lids, head bouncing softly with every bump and dip of the road; uncaring as he shed hair all over the dark cloak.  
  
He’d initially proposed procuring a carrier for the feline to ensure Gavin’s safe delivery—only to be shot down quickly by the spitting, hissing snarls of rejection.

  
  
_‘I’ll scratch the shit out of your fucking armchair if you even try, motherfucker.’_

 

If they crashed and the cat was flung 40 feet into the air through glass, fire, and debris, Gavin would have no one to blame but himself.

 _‘For a fancy, pretentious asshole, you drive a pretty shitty car,’_ The cat spoke up, nosing into the dark fabric as he curled into a more comfortable position.

Nines scoffed softly, releasing the wheel as to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, well. This fancy, pretentious asshole doesn’t see the point in owning a vehicle that would rarely be driven. It was this or a taxi--but I felt safer driving something that couldn’t be as easily tracked.”

The cat let out a thoughtful hum--or purr--as his eyes settled on the witch’s strong jaw. _‘What makes you think that crazy bitch--’_

“Don’t call her that--”

_‘--isn’t tracking your every move as we speak?’_

“Despite her actions, I trust her,” Nines muttered, glancing away from the quiet road and down to the unimpressed stare of the cat. “There is more to our relationship than you could ever understand in the single hour you’ve known her.”

_‘What--like some weird sexual magic sh--’_

The witch’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “I would highly recommend you rethink whether or not it is wise you finish what you’re about to say.”

The cat snorted as the witch turned his blinker on, turning the vehicle onto a road with a steep incline. Arching trees shrouded the paved lane in articulate, foreboding grandeur--both a warning to those approaching the roads end and a display of power. This wasn’t the work of a skilled gardener, Nines was certain.

Gavin grew quiet as they drove up the winding road, burrowing his nose into the folds of the witch’s cloak. The fae magic that surrounded the cat, while potent on its own, was nothing to the next trial of warnings they began to pass through. The salt of violent seas drifted around them, and the sweet nectar of honeysuckle tempted weaker constitutions toward certain death.

Kissed and licked against Nines’ own power--tempting, challenging, loving, greedy. Whispered sweet temptations against his lips, promising power, wealth, love, anything. It was a trap laid in the name of the Olde Gods--spun by a particular fae whose magic bled into the area like a signature with a heart over the ‘ **i** ’.

It was a blessing when the final curve in the road arrived, and the powerful magic was left to linger behind in the canopy of trees--spectral fingers grasping but out of reach.

The house they pulled up to heavily contrasted the old magic that lingered the surrounding hills. Beings who had long outlived mortal age tended to favor the rustic and traditional--finding no need for technologies or fixtures outside of their era. But this home? Even by Nines’ standards, it was uncomfortably modern.

Blocky, cement walls climbed much of the angular structure as tall glass windows surrounded. While he might have been uncomfortable at the idea at such a breach of privacy, the magic spun around the home’s border was enough to keep any peeping-tom at bay.

Pulling the car to a stop, Nines let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he killed the engine, plummeting the pair into an uncomfortable silence. Gavin sat stock straight in his seat, staring up through the windshield at the uncaring stone edges of the building’s roof.

 _‘I told myself that I’d never come back here,’_ Gavin’s much tolerable magic whispered against Nines’ ear. _‘That I’d never put myself into a situation that forced me to seek his help.’_

“Mm, a dangerous promise to make in your profession,” The witch hummed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Would you prefer to stay a cat?”

 _‘Fuck no,’_ The feline scoffed, turning his sharp gaze up to an amused Nines. _‘But I also know if whatever is fucking going down in Detroit is this bad--he should know. He and Carl were really close from what I hear.’_

“I see,” The witch murmured, reaching over to tug his cloak out from under a reluctant Gavin. “Well, we might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. I would prefer not to drive back through that border past sunset.”

 _‘If we can fucking leave at all,’_ Gavin grumbled, ears falling back against his skull as he watched Nines pull his arms through the dark, ebony sleeves. _‘I’m serious, by the way-- offering to take any of his deals is too much to ask. If he doesn't help us at a reasonable price, we should just go.’_

“Do you think me a fool, Detective?” The witch asked, dark brows rising over an unimpressed gaze. “I can handle a fae’s riddles and games.”

Ignoring the sudden wave of doubt washing off the cat, Nines let out a soft sigh and cracked open the door to the chilly morning air. Gravel crunched under the heel of his dress shoe as wind tugged playfully at the collar beneath his chin.

Glancing back into the car, the witch frowned as the cat remained where it was, stormy gaze returned once more to the building ahead.

“Gavin.”

Ears twitching, the cat let out an agitated rumble before climbing to its feet to stretch. Hopping into the driver’s seat, the cursed detective’s back arched as the cold wind rustled through its fur. Glancing down to the frozen gravel driveway, Nines sensed hesitance in the creature as it pawed pathetically at the cushion of the seat.

“Are you waiting for an invitatio--”

_‘Look, I’m a tiny fucking cat, alright? That shit’s going to hurt if I-- **WHAT THE FUCK?!** '_

Gavin scrambled as a large palm curled gently beneath his torso and pulled him up into the air. The cat snarled and kicked angrily as its center of gravity was jostled, confusion and irritation dueling on equal footing with calm.

It was only as he was pressed to the witch’s chest did he still out of confusion, blinking up at the angular jaw as the lapel of the jacket was pulled securely around him. Arm curling around the lump at his chest, Nines knocked the door shut with his hip before pocketing his keys.

Icy blue glanced down to the cat’s befuddled stare.

“....As I said, I want to get this done as soon as possible.”

_‘R-right.’_

Nines chose not to give voice to his amusement when the cat curled closer to his chest as he began the slow trek to the front door. Everything within him screamed to turn back and run; that dealing in any way with a full fae was a death sentence within itself.

But warm reminder sat close to his breast at the stakes he was facing.

It was a calculated risk.

Before his heel could connect to the first of the cement steps leading to the porch, a sharp crack sounded through the quiet, chilly morning like a gunshot. Nines stilled as the cat tensed against his chest, glancing up as the large doors opened slowly. A head of golden blond hair poked from within, glancing down to the pair with amused curiosity.

“Hello.”

The witch struggled to find words as he stared up at the woman who stepped further out into the cold. A sundress, unfit for such weather, hugged prettily at her frame--with enough exposed limbs to make a chill run up his own spine.

“Do you have an appointment?” She spoke again, appearing unbothered by his lack of response to her original greeting.

“A-appointment?” Nines asked, stumbling over his words as he finally found his voice. Gavin shuffled deeper below the lapels of his cloak, discomfort radiating off of him in waves. “I was unaware that appointment would be necessary.”

The woman smiled, clasping her hands in front of the soft billow of a floral skirt. “Oh yes, Mr. Kamski is a very busy man. I’m afraid we don’t take impromptu meetings without prior scheduling.”

 _‘Bullshit,’_ Gavin hissed from within the dark folds of Nines’ cloak, peeking an annoyed glare at the woman. _‘Motherfucker wants to appear important as if he isn’t content hiding away like a hermit and jerking o--’_

The cat tensed as the woman’s gaze fluttered to the cat cuddled to Nines breast. A questionable silence blossomed at the soft rounding of surprise in her blue eyes.

“Oh, I see,” She breathed, amusement bleeding into her expression as mirth twinkled in her eyes. “Please, come wait inside while I check with Elijah. He may still be in bed given the hour.”

Without waiting for their confirmation, the blond bobbed her head in a silent nod before disappearing once more into the house; the door remaining half cracked in her wake. Nines glanced down to the cat, brows knit in puzzlement at the sudden shift in the woman’s resolve.

Gavin glanced up to the witch, ears twitching and gaze betraying his own bewilderment. _‘.... Do you think she understood me?’_

Nines shrugged as he began the slow trek up the stairs, hugging the cat unconsciously tighter to his chest. “Time will tell. Do you know her?”

 _‘Chloe. She’s Elijah’s assistant and, uh, child I think,’_ The detective grumbled, fidgeting nervously as they stepped over the threshold and into the lobby of the mansion. Comfortable heat hit the witch like a truck, pressing into the chilled fabric of his being as the winter cold was sealed away by the closed door.

“Child? I wasn’t aware that Elijah had biological offspring,” Nines murmured, glancing around the impersonal furnishings. The witch silently noted a number of flower petals littering the cold marble floor, as well as an amount of green foliage tucked into the corners of the room.

 _‘I don’t think that’s what she is,’_ Gavin muttered, allowing himself to be untucked from the jacket and set upon one of the seats stationed clinically against the wall for guests. Stretching, the cat’s ears continued to twitch uncomfortably as he glanced around the room, noting paintings and articles littering the walls.

Nines blinked as the cat suddenly hopped down from the cushioned loveseat to pad gently to the opposite end of the lobby, staring up at a black-and-white photo situated on the wall. Following at the cat’s heel, the witch frowned upon noticing a group of figures posed together and dressed in clothing from an era long past.

_‘Isn’t that--’_

“Yes,” Nines murmured, dark brows knitting as he glanced between the youthful faces of Carl Manfred and Amanda Stern laughing, joyful, and hanging off the arms of an equally amused Kamski. The picture had to have dated from the early 1900s, if not earlier, given the quality of the photograph. The preservation of the photo within the frame had been done reverently; not even a speck of dust coating the top of the dark frame.

“I was not aware that Amanda had any relations with Elijah Kamski.”

“Oh yes, they were quite close.”

The odd pair jumped at Chloe’s sudden return, neither having heard the click of a door or tap of a heel. Standing at the witch’s elbow, the woman smiled in response to his confused stare before glancing back to the photograph that had previously captured their attention.

“At least once upon a time,” She clarified with a shrug, turning sorrowful eyes towards the young Manfred. “Elijah never did tell me what had caused the falling out between himself and Stern--but I would assume it had to do with his affection for Carl.”

“They were lovers?” Nines asked, brows rising in surprise.

“Once upon a time,” Chloe repeated once more, glancing up to him with a small wink and smile. “They did, however, remain very close friends through the remainder of Mr. Manfred’s life. I was very sad to hear of his passing.”

Two pairs of eyes glanced down to Gavin as he spoke--or his magic spoke. _‘Will Elijah see us or can we fuck off? I’d rather not talk about his fucking sex life.’_

Before Nines could vocalize the cat’s question, Chloe’s smile widened brilliantly as she fell into a crouch. Gavin nearly jumped out of his skin as painted nails scratched gently beneath his chin, forcing his gaze upward to her face.

“Oh yes. You just caught him as he was getting out of bed. He’ll let me know when he’s decent enough to see guests,” She chirped, boldly raising her hand to gently pet behind his ears.

To Nines’ surprise, Gavin pressed into the woman’s hand unconsciously as a soft, rumbling purr sounded in his chest. A hot wave of unreadable emotion flooded the witches chest as the cat was scooped up into the woman’s arms and cradled to her chest; long fingers continuing to stroke through the cat’s fur.

It was then that the witch caught the sweet, tempting floral scent that had saturated the trap surrounding the building. Gaze flickering around the room, Nines allowed his power to stretch and press against the building’s own magic; gaze ultimately settling on the woman preoccupied with his cat.

“You aren’t human,” The witch murmured dumbly, meeting her eyes as she looked away from the cat nuzzling her collar. “You set the trap outside.”

“Did you like it?” She asked, excited energy radiating off her being as she turned to face him more fully. “I’m rather proud of the work I did! Elijah helped me with much of it, but it's entirely non-lethal--at least it's supposed to be, but I couldn’t dissuade Mr. Kamski from a spike pit or two. I do hope it didn’t give you too much trouble.”

Nines frowned, glancing to the uncharacteristic affection displayed by the cursed detective. That hot curl of...something within his gut grew tighter, angrier. “...But you are not a witch. What are yo--”

“Oh! Elijah is ready for you,” Chloe hummed, pushing the cat into a startled Nines’ arms as she turned away from them. “Please go through this door when you are ready. I’m going to go start the kettle. I do hope you like tea.”

Before the witch could respond, the woman jogged over to the corner of the room--

\--and promptly dissolved into a cloud of leaves and petals that fluttered gently to the cold marble tile.

 _‘What the fuck?’_ Gavin asked aloud, voice slurring as if coming out of a drunken stupor. His cheek pressed gently to the witch’s collar as long fingers picked up the gentle pets Chloe had previously abandoned.

“What the fuck?” Nines echoed in tandem, curling an arm around the cat as he watched the final petal join its brothers on the floor.

The two stood in silence for the briefest of moments, allowing themselves a small break before walking into the belly of the beast. The cat continued to allow the soft scratches behind his ears as he struggled back to reality, shaking off the lingering cloud of manufactured affection that had previously doused him.

“Are you alright, Gavin?”

_‘No. But I will be once we leave this fucking house, one way or another.’_

“Hopefully in one piece,” The witch murmured, voice tickling with a desperate amusement.

The cat snorted and pressed his head into the man’s long fingers. _‘Or at all.’_

 

“Or at all,” The witch echoed.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping a Kudos and/or a Comment!
> 
> The enthusiasm I've gotten so far over my previous chapters is mind blowing! Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the 2nd part to the Elijah chapter. 
> 
> Please note that this fic will likely be ending within the next few chapters. If my plans pan out, this will the first fic in a series of fics/oneshots within this universe that follows Jericho, Elijah, Amanda, Nines, and the DPD.
> 
> EDIT: 
> 
> Check out this amazing fanart by @Rossollinss on Twitter! Absolutely adorable!  
> Please give them some support for their wonderful work! 
> 
> https://twitter.com/Rossollinss/status/1082859454649970688

 

Passing quickly between climates is always an unnerving sensation.

The front foyer struggled to battle away the creeping winter chill that bit hungrily into the tips of Nines’ fingers and sat un-prettily in the splotchy blush of his cheeks. The floor-to-ceiling windows may have been double-paned to prevent the chill from invading the space, but they did not exist as impenetrable forces against nature.

However, pushing open the door Chloe had directed them to, Nines suddenly felt nauseous as the humid heat of summer slammed into him like a tidal wave. Gavin must have been experiencing similar discomfort as he stiffened within the witch’s idle cradle, beneath the press of fingertips to his fur.

One might have expected a jungle built within the residence due to the tropical heat and the magic that saturated the room. In place of hanging vines or a cacophony of bird song, the pair stood in the entryway of a grey, sleek, impassive room that felt entirely impersonal.

The only tokens that betrayed the cold room aside from the sitting heat were the collection of leaves and petals that scattered many of the surfaces within the home. Fauna of brilliant greens and vivid color were the only signs of life or personality--and further led to the witch’s discomfort as he set a reluctant Gavin down to the floor.

A pool stood directly to Nines’ right; red waters lapping with gentle gurgles against warm stone. The cat idling at his heel let out a soft, distasteful mewl as he curled his bodily languidly through the witch’s practiced steps--putting distance between himself and the questionable waters.

 _‘Ten bucks says that’s some Elizabeth Bathory shit,’_ Gavin’s magic whispered into Nines’ ear, pleasant and familiar against the tropical, tangy, spice that saturated that of the elder Kamski’s.

“It appears too diluted to be blood,” The witch murmured, eyes flickering over the rest of the room as he looked for any sign of the homeowner. “Why would Mr.Kamski want to bathe in blood anyway? That seems outside of a fae’s nature.”

 _‘How can you claim to have even a remote pinpoint on the nature of faes? The fae are fucked up bastards,’_ The cat grumbled, hopping up off of the floor and onto a leather chair situated near one of the tall windows. He preened discreetly as his claws let out a pop, pop, pop into the taut fabric.

_‘And Elijah is the definition of being a fucked up, freaky basta--’_

Manicured nails scratched gently behind the cat’s ear as a humored voice interrupted him from above.

“I’m flattered.”

Gavin and Nines jumped at the sudden appearance of the other man--the cat more so as he bodily wrenched himself from the seat and to the tile below. Elijah chucked from where he leaned languidly against the back of the chair, hand still raised from where he’d been petting the cat currently scrambling to right itself.

It was questionable whether Nines was lucky or unfortunate to have never met Elijah Kamski in person--but the man before him was not what he was expecting. The fae’s name was whispered like a curse within the magical community; fabled a monster, a mystery, a threat all in a single breath.

The tales of his power and deeds were testaments to the dangers that stood before them--

\--clad in far too short a silken, floral bathrobe and ordinary, human tube socks. A pair of dark shades sat on the bridge of his nose, a pencil tucked behind a pointed ear, and amused smirk widening into a toothy grin.

“Gavin Reed,” The fae singsonged as he stared down at the cat glaring furiously back at him. “Last we spoke, you stormed from my home and declared--and I quote--if I ever see your asshole of a face again I’ll put a silver bullet through your stupid fuckin’ fairy teeth.”

The cat bristled from where he stood, back arching slightly under the unwavering gaze of the amused fae.

_‘Oh trust me, motherfucker. If I had thumbs…’_

Beneath the dark shades, Nines watched the human pinch of wrinkles at the corner of Kamski’s eyes as his smile grew. As terrified and furious and stubborn as Gavin Reed was, the way the elder fae watched the other was with an endeared reverence that the witch found…. perplexing.

“I did tell you that you’ve no idea how to control your magic,” Elijah hummed as he rounded the chair, choosing to ignore the cat skittering back a few paces as he took a seat. One pale, bare leg crossed over an equally bare knee as he lounged into the armrest. It might have appeared regal had tube socks not anointed his feet. “I find myself not at all surprised to see what’s become of you.”

_‘Oh blow me you pompous, two-faced bas--’_

“Hello, Richard. It’s lovely to see you again.”

Gavin grew quiet as the witch’s head shot up, turning a confused eye toward the beetle eyed attention of the fae. Confusion stilled his tongue against the back of his teeth, raking the back of his mind for any instance he might have met the fabled Elijah Kamski.

“I’m sorry? Perhaps you are mistaking me with my bro--”

Elijah lifted a hand lazily into the air, silencing the witch with a wave of his wrist. “Oh I’d know the difference between you and Connor in a heartbeat,” The man drawled, drawing his hand back to set his cheek upon bony knuckles; pointed ears giving a soft twitch in amusement. “Amanda was quite proud when you came into her custody. Connor was a quiet kid--but you? Loud, clingy, always crying.”

Richard’s mouth went dry as Elijah spoke, frozen where he stood as every word rocked him. The subject of his past (and by relation, Connor’s) was a touchy subject that neither brother enjoyed reflecting on. There existed few, precious memories before being brought into Amanda’s coven that dwindled away year by year.

If he concentrated enough, my might still remember the soft cooing voice of a woman in his ear. Sometimes he would be unfair to himself and assume the voice had been invented by the desperate, lonely part of his mind. The passing of soothing circles over his shoulders as he sobbed against a warm breast. The smell of gentle, floral perfume as he was cradled close.

“You met me was a toddler.”

“That is what I’m implying,” Elijah confirmed, reaching up to pull his shades off his nose in the same time that the clinking of china sounded at the far side of the room. Ghostly, spectral winds kicked up the lingering floral into a fierce gust, churning over themselves in fast, disorderly spirals.

As the isolated tornado of leaves and flora arrived at its thickest, a slender and familiar leg stepped forward through the spiral--followed by a tray containing a tea set held by the familiar, blond woman from the lobby.

Nines glanced away from Elijah to the smiling woman, eyes flickering to the few petals that fell away to the tile and calm red waters. Questions of every sort began to flood his being as she came to a stop at the elder fae’s elbow, shooting a warm grin to the very nervous cat at their feet.

What is she? How did you know Amanda? Did you know my mother?

His lips pressed into a firm, silent line.

“Do you take cream or sugar?” Chloe asked the disgruntled witch as she took up the delicate, floral teapot and poured amber liquid into one of the three cups set upon the dish. Flickering her eyes up from the task, her gaze met an attentive Elijah. The smile shared between the pair was strange to witness; like teenage sweethearts still dancing around each other in the schoolyard.

It was a silent relief to have Gavin speak up first-- small mercy to the witch with the buzzing brain.

 _‘What the fuck are you?’_ The cat hissed from the ground, glaring up at the pair making googly-eyes at one another.

Elijah took up his tea as Chloe broke his gaze, cheeks flushing prettily as she turned her attention to the cat. Blinking, the woman set the teapot back on the tray as she visibly pondered over Gavin’s question.

“I am Elijah’s assistant,” She finally admitted, as if that were the pertinent information the cursed detective had been searching for.

_‘That’s not what I am ask--’_

“We do have an…. intimate relationship from time to time, but I try not to let that get in the way of my wo--”

“She is a golem, Gavin,” Elijah hummed over the lip of his cup, lounging once more as he turned unreadable eyes to the curious cat. “I created her myself.”

 _‘What the fuck do you mean by created her yourself?’_ Gavin asked, voice failing to disguise the horror at such a claim. _‘She ain’t real?’_

Reaching up, Elijah took Chloe’s chin into his hand and smiled as a soft chuckle passed over her lips. “I gave her form,” He hummed, trailing a thumb across her bottom lip like the ghost of a kiss. “Chloe is and was very much alive before I gave her a body. If you’ve ever read fables from old religions, you might have heard of creatures considered to be dryads or daemons. The birth of human industry and expansion has seen too much of the magical communities destructions.”

Chloe grinned as she leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Sometimes, it becomes time to bend the rules of nature,” Elijah breathed against her lips, nearly spilling his tea had the woman’s gentle fingers not pressed to the cup’s edge.

“So you gave Chloe a body,” Nines murmured, finally finding his voice after his brief period of shocked silence.

“I gave her my magic,” Kamski declared, turning away from Chloe to look up at Nines, a hungry glint within his eye. “Chloe chose her own form and molded who she has become. She is as human you or me.”

 _‘So not at all,’_ Gavin grumbled, sitting down as his tail flicked anxiously against the floor.

Elijah chuckled. “I suppose you are correct. She is the first of my golems, and I dare say my favorite.”

“I would hope so,” Chloe chided, taking up the teapot and filling a second cup. “I would reconsider the chores you’ve assigned me if I were anything but.”

“Would you leave me?” Elijah hummed, smirking at the fake disgust that crossed the woman's face beneath an amused gaze.

“I would. The world would herald me as Kamski’s slayer as you’ve no means of caring for yourself,” The woman grinned, bringing her own cup up to her mouth to hide the blush flushing her cheeks at the fae’s bark of laughter.

 _‘Okay,’_ Gavin spoke up before the two could continue their intimate banter. _‘This is disgusting, and we don’t have fucking time for it. We need your help.’_

“I assumed as much,” Elijah hummed, brows raising as he motioned in a small circle at the feline sitting on the ground before him. “The question is if you are deserving of my help.”

_‘Jesus fucking Ch--’_

“You spurned me the last time you came to me for aid, brother,” Elijah murmured, the sweet humor that had morphed his expression only moments before melting away. “What would ever motivate me to help someone who was too pig-headed to accept my aid in the first place?”

Nines tensed at the hiss of distaste that sounded from the cat, back arching even more defensively.

 _‘I was wondering when you’d fucking reveal yourself,’_ Gavin hissed, climbing to his feet to pace slowly, defensively. _‘The vain, arrogant asshole who asks for too much.’_

“So says the coward too selfish to sacrifice anything for the life of his moth--”

Uh oh.

Nines was quick to swoop down and grab Gavin by the nape of the neck mid-pounce, holding the furious cat in the air as he clawed towards an unimpressed Elijah. The fae watched his spitting brother with a calm gaze, an unimpressed sigh passing over his lips.

 _‘You wanted everything!’_ The cat’s magic screamed, cold wind kicking up the edges of Nine’s jacket from where he stood. Chloe’s warm smile fell as she watched the struggling pair, stepping behind Elijah’s chair defensively. _‘How would selling myself to you save her when I was the only one who fucking cared for her! She would have been alone!’_

The witch flinched at the course, pained tone that wrenched like a sob from the Gavin's snarl. While cats lacked the ability to cry, emotion pummelled into the aura of Nines' magic, lashing at him with equal measures of sadness and fury. 

The witch was careful to adjust his hold on the cat, pulling him into his arms as every thrash grew weaker.

“Perhaps we should leav--”

“I never said I wouldn’t help,” Elijah murmured, frowning at the distrustful gaze leveled on him by the feline.

The witch leveled a heated glare on the fae, magic bubbling angrily within the tips of his fingers. “We do not have time for games or inciting remarks,” He said darkly, relaxing minutely as Gavin became less rigid in his hold. “What is the cost of returning Gavin to his human form? If you do not help us, I will seek out a power that will.”

The fae’s brows rose from here he sat, leaning into the arm of his chair as he traced his fingers over his lip in thought.

“... Are you offering to accept the price in my brother’s place?”

Nines hesitated, fingers stilling in their gentle strokes across the feline’s spine. Gavin shifted in his embrace, turning a watchful eye up to the witch’s chin from the odd angle at which he was cradled. The cold, biting winds drawn forth through the cursed detective’s malice had settled into a gentle breeze against the back of his neck.

Encouraging, offering, trustful.

“I am simply asking the contents and terms. Nothing more, nothing less,” The witch spoke, at last, turning his gaze to the intrigued eye of the fae.

Elijah remained quiet where he sat, eyes flickering between the pair as he tapped his chin with his nails in a slow pattern.

“Curious. Do you see it too, my love?”

Chloe let out a hum of confirmation, sitting on the free arm of his seat as she too took up an observant vigil over the pair. “It is rather beautiful, isn’t it? It is a rare thing to witness in its infancy.”

 _‘What the fuck are you two rambling about?’_ Gavin grumbled, peeking his head over Nines’ arm sourly.

Elijah smiled in response to Gavin’s subdued anger, sitting back from his hand to instead trace his fingers down the thigh pressed at his elbow. “You will understand in time, little brother,” He hummed, drumming his fingers against the pale flesh beneath his palm. His smile only grew when Gavin grumbled about ‘fucking riddles’, uncrossing his legs to address the pair more fully.

“I will not help you,” He said, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. “I am not foolish enough to make a deal with Stern’s apprentice. That woman would raze my home to the ground in a violent plot to seek revenge for her own pride--and I quite like my home. We just painted.”

The fae man continued to speak before Nines could utter even a word of protest.

“And you don’t need my help.”

Gavin bristled. _‘I have a fucking tail, Elij--’_

“You’ll find your way back to your human form in due time, brother,” The man shrugged, lacing his fingers idly. “You’re already on your way. And once you do return to a less adorable form, reconsider the offer I made you those many years ago.”

“We’ve no time to wait for the magic to reverse itself naturally,” Nines spoke up, lips pulling into a slow grimace as the fae’s attention settled on him. “There is a war brewing within Detroit and Amanda--”

“Killed Carl Manfred--yes I’m very much aware,” Elijah said, the good-natured humor falling from his expression as he eyes flickered to his clasped knuckles. “He was a good man, but a trusting fool. Didn’t think to carve out the rot within his circle before it was too late.

“But,” Elijah hummed, climbing to his feet and adjusted his robe modestly around his waist with smoothing palms. “I’ve no interest in the politics of mortals. If Amanda is vying for the power of the Archmage, it is hers to pursue.”

Nines stomach dropped at the nonchalance with which the fae man brushed off their concerns, fingers pressing sharply into Gavin’s fur. A seed of worry sprouted in his stomach and twined invasively up his throat, silencing every protest that beat against his lips.

_‘I thought you loved Carl.’_

Kamski froze where he stood, turning his gaze to the watchful eye of his cursed brother. “....That was a long time ago, Gavin. You know nothing of my relationship with Carl Manfred,” He muttered, voice dripping with an incomprehensible sadness that made the cat squirm.

“I will, however, offer you one suggestion that may push the tides in your favor,” The fae murmured after a moment’s thought, glancing back to an approving Chloe before settling his gaze on the pair.

“Seek out Jericho.”

Gavin’s ears perked. ‘Jericho? The werewolf sanctuary?’

“Mm. Ask for a man named Mar--”

Nines blinked. “Markus Manfred. You want to make a lineage power play,” He murmured, cheeks flushing slightly under the approving smirk that settled on the fae’s face.

 

“I imply nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping me a kudos and/or comment below!
> 
> You can find me at:
> 
> Tumblr: pencewrites  
> Twitter: penxes


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go and this fic is done. If you're interested, I posted a prequel Hank Anderson centered fic the other day! You can check it out by clicking series!
> 
> I'm excited to explore more of this AU with y'all :)

 

The churning, violent trap that had met them on Kamski’s property was silent as they retreated from the home. Dusk peaked between the breaks of the tree’s canopies as they drove, streaking light across the twin occupants of the car.  
  
Gavin hadn’t said a word since they had made a swift retreat from the home. He had bristled angrily within Nines’ arms when Elijah had offered to allow them to stay for the night--only relaxing the moment he’d been placed within the relative safety of the passenger seat.  
  
Even now as they turned onto the main road and out of the curse grove enclosing Kamski’s land, the cat laid idly across the witch’s cloak. Aside from the occasional shift or kneading of his claws into the warm fabric, he was as quiet as the dead.  
  
Almost.  
  
The amount of fae magic churning through the car put the witch on edge; fingers clenched to the steering wheel and back rigid. It whipped and licked at his own power as it rolled through the vehicle--sickly sweet and tempting like the most dangerous of flowers. While Gavin didn’t make a sound from where he laid, the distress radiating off of him was vicious, perfumed, and almost visible in its ferocity. It pressed cold fingers to his cheeks and begged tenderly against his lips. Whispered tempting promises in his ears and left vicious bites at the back of his neck.  
  
“Gavin.”  
  
Beyond the flicker of his ears at the sound of the witch’s voice, Gavin didn’t move from his spot nor lift his head. His power, however, surged again.  
  
“You need to calm down.”  
  
_“I’m perfectly calm.”_ As magic pressed further into his own--distracting, tempting, poisonous--Nines knew a lie when he heard one.

Eyes flickering to the digital clock in the vehicle’s front panel, the witch let out a soft sigh. It would be well into the early hours of the morning by the time they reached his home in Detroit. And after spending a few hours in a fae’s house and the addition of the residual magic washing over him now….

Nines was tired.

They continued to drive in uncomfortable silence for a time, past rolling meadows battling autumn frost and sparse farmhouse sitting like lonely idols in cultivated nature. It was only when a flashing beacon arrived in the distance of the long, quiet highway that the witch hit the turn signal and pulled into the graveled parking lot of a questionable motel.  
“What are you doing?” Gavin asked, pushing up from where he was laying as Nines killed the engine. An offended huff left the feline as the cloak was once again pulled from under him and around the witch’s shoulders.

“We’ll spend the night here and return to my home in the morning,” Nines said, allowing no room for protest as he pushed open the driver side door with an audible click. The cat bristled as he watched the witch’s head disappear over the top of the car with a final _“Wait here.”_

Gavin squawked indignantly from within the car as the door was shut, silencing him within the dark vehicle. Letting out a breath, the witch allowed the evening chill to bite pleasantly at his cheeks before turning towards the lone office.

Gravel crunched beneath his polished shoes as he approached, pulling open the glance door. A bell jingled above his head as he stepped within the warm, dingy lobby--startling the caretaker sitting with his legs upon the desk.

A pudgy, pink man scrambled to right himself, growing even redder at having been caught listening to the latest game with his fingers buried halfway into a bag of chips. The witch’s brows rose in surprise but appeared unbothered at the odd display.

“Uh, sorry ‘bout that,” The innkeeper stammered as he wiped his palms upon his thighs, sweat coating his brow as he stood. “Don’t normally get guests ‘round these par--”

He went silent as he took the witch in, brows knitting in confusion. Distrustful.

“....The fuck do you want, witch?”

Nines blinked in confusion before pushing his power out into the room, focusing his gaze on the fidgeting innkeeper. As his magic rolled harmlessly over the man’s shoulders, he saw the faint signs of glamour shining across his skin.

Ah.

“You’re a goblin.”

The disguised goblin bristled under the vocal observation, sweating beading further on his brow. His eyes flickered to the security camera in the corner of the room before forcing himself to speak around the lump in his throat.

“I don’t want no troub--”

Nines stopped him with the raising of his hand, exhaustion tugging heavily at his limbs.

“The only business I wish to do with you is renting out one of your room for the night,” He spoke, keeping his gaze level with that of the nervous man. “I’ve no quarrel with your race nor do I know of your clan.”

The goblin didn’t seem to find comfort in the witch’s assurances, fingers scrambling nervously against the lip of his desk. “‘Course we have a quarrel if you come in smellin’ like that.”

Nines blinked, brows rising as he considered the goblins accusation. Pushing his power out again, his gaze flickered over the spectral energy that twined and weaved around him. Bound to his soul through blood and barter. Natural energies mingling with those promised by the one gods through which he communed.

And between each link and binding lived an energy not of his nature or negotiation.

Fae magic.

“I…”

“Look, I don’t want no trouble with you or that Fae Lord or nothin’,” The goblin said, squaring his shoulders and forcing the words out loudly in an attempt to mask the quiver in voice. “If you want’a room, I expect you outta here first thing in the morning.”

Nines remained silent as he watched the spectral churning of his magic, focused on the spirited twining of vines in the links of his power. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the witch raised his hand and drew the hanging magic into his grasp, staring into the webbing of his fingers as the fae magic was isolated. 

 

_“Curious. Do you see it too, my love?”_

 

The witch’s mouth went dry as he watched the spectral fae magic twine between his fingers, accepting his silent call of power with kisses against his knuckles. Realization crept at the nape of his neck as the energy soaked slowly into his flesh; becoming one with his own earned power.

 

_“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it? It is a rare thing to witness in its infancy.”_

 

Nines glanced up to the innkeeper as his hand dropped into his pocket, much to the discomfort of the man. The goblin nearly jumped out of his skin as a wallet was produced.

 

“Do you take VISA?”

 

\-----

 

The motel room left much to be desired in the way of comfort or convenience. Dated curtains and carpets made the room feel dingy and dirty--although perhaps it merely was dingy and dirty. Brown water erupted from the faucets when first started, but would clear up after a few moments of waiting. Scratches and stains littered much of the wall behind the bed, painting questionable stories of their origin into a curious mind.

Nines was far too distracted to care.

The cat sat perched on top of the dresser as the witch paced, tail swinging in low arcs while he tracked the man’s steps.

 _“You’re freaking me out, Nines,”_ Gavin spoke warily, scarred nose twitching as the witch continued his back and forth.

Soft words tumbled from the witch as he paced, fingers trailing his lips as he lost himself to his thoughts and his chants. Such a thing should have been impossible…. This was no offering from the other side nor a natural born pact.

_“Nines.”_

Impossible. There had to exist an unforeseen cost. Bondings on this sort were incredibly rare to the point that even within the circle of witchcraft it was a child’s fable. A wish.

_“Nines!”_

The witch came to an abrupt halt and turned to face the cat, hand dropping to his side. Panic existed in the sparkle of his eyes and the flush of pink in his cheeks.

“Gavin,” He whispered like a prayer, swallowing thickly as he juggled what he planned to say on his tongue. “Do you know what a Familiar is?”

The cat shifted uncomfortably where he sat, watching the witch as he took careful steps toward the creature.

 _“I’m not familiar,”_ Gavin replied carefully, kneading his paws into the worn wood of what had once been a polished dresser.

“No! But you are!” Nine exclaimed, face lighting with an excitement that startled the cat up from where he sat. Slapping his fist onto his palm, the witch whirled on his heel and resumed his pacing, albeit much more frantically.

“I’m not sure how such a thing could be possible, but it’s happened! Extraordinary! Mindblowing! I never thought I would live to see such a union and to be half of such a feat is--”

  
Gavin shuffled his feet nervously. _“Extraordinary?”_

Turning to face the cat, a smile grew on the witch’s face that pinched dimples into the light freckles of cheeks. In two long strides, he crossed over to Gavin and scooped him into his arms with a chuckle; uncaring of the howl of surprise that left the feline.

 _“What the fuck is going on?!”_ Gavin snarled, unhappy as he was deposited haphazardly onto the faded comforter of the bed. The cat jumped back as Nines dropped to his knees at its side, leveling his gaze with the nervous feline.

“Our souls are in the process of bonding together, Gavin.”

_“Our souls are what-the-fuck now?”_

“Bonding into an ancient contract between witch and spirit. A union of power and life. One that we must both agree in order to truly join as one,” The witch explained, spreading his fingers down his thighs in an attempt to center himself amid his buzz of excitement. “It appears that by agreeing to take Kamski’s price, regardless of whether or not an offer had been made, I signed my name to your soul.”

_“And you need my consent to fulfill this magical mumbo-jumbo?”_

“Precisely.”

The cat stared the witch down, eyes searching for a lie in the soft smile still situated on his face.

_“Fuck off.”_

That soft smile fell away. “Excuse me?”

Turning on his heel, Gavin crossed to the other end of the bed and resumed the pacing that Nines had abandoned moments before.

 _“The last thing I need is more magic in my fucking life. You’re okay for a witch, but I’d be more willing to rip every last ounce of magic out of my bloodstream than dive in headfirst,”_ The cat grumbled, the hair on his back rising in agitation. _“Get human and fuck off out of the city. Let Detroit handle whatever this brewing war will bring. I’m so fucking done._ ”

Sitting back on his heels, Nines frowned and glanced down the nine-pointed star branded to the back of his hand.

“....Magic is a part of you, whether you like it or not, Detective,” The witch murmured, trailing the dark nails of his other hand from one point to the next. “You will never be able to run from it because it exists everywhere. There is no shutting your eyes to the supernatural after you’ve already opened them.

“But... If you accept this contract, you will not only be able to draw from my own power but gain control over the magic you have. Weapon and ammunition. Chisel and tool. Shaped and formed into what you wish to see.”

The cat had come to a pause as the witch spoke, nails pricking into the bedspread in agitation.

A silence settled over the pair as they stared each other down, pleading, understanding, angry, excited. It was only when the witch reached out towards the feline, palm forward in offering that the silence was broken.

“Please.”

A surge of power slammed into the witches’ chest at the signing of a name, eyes widening in shock and turning toward the ceiling. Magic twisted through his muscles and vibrated down his bones, soaking into his blood and tickling his fingertips. His spine grew stiff as power threatened the walls of his control, volatile and dangerous with every hot lash against the witch’s soul.

And then it grew quiet as a hand took hold of his own; a nine-pointed star branded in dark ink against its knuckles.

Glancing up, the witch smiled as he took in a very naked, yet very human detective.

“Hi, I’m Gavin.”

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Gavin.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, please consider dropping a kudos or comment below!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final/epilogue-ish chapter of Familiar. Don't worry! We'll meet them again in a sequel within this series. This fic was simply to set the scene and lay out the players.

The pavement beneath his heels squelched as he stepped from the taxi, stained dark with the memory of a recently passed storm. Rolling clouds continued to hang among the skyscrapers surrounding him, shading the burrow in depressing grayscale.

Letting out a soft sigh, Connor adjusted his coat as he brushed past his visible breath, heading for the stoop leading up to the imposing rowhouse that sat before him. The stone steps of the stoop below the front door were lined with dark iron bars, metal vines twining beneath the posts.

Forgoing politeness, the warlock took hold of the handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open, unsettled at the heavy drone of the hinges as he stepped into the foyer.

Nines wouldn’t mind. Or, at least, he wouldn’t voice his protest regarding his brother’s intrusion.

So long as he wasn’t dead.

While they weren’t as close as they had been as children, Connor did his utmost to check up on the younger witch at least every week. Nines enjoyed calling it his ‘weekly intervention’ as the topic of conversation often devolved into pleas to abandon Amanda’s coven before it was too late.

This week’s intervention, however, had been met with no reply to his voicemail. Or two. Or ten.

Of course, Connor’s mind had gone straight to the worst, especially with supernatural activity within the city tripling as a result of Carl Manfred’s murder.

“Richard?”

The only response that arrived at his call was the echo of his own voice, mocking him for walking straight into what was likely Amanda’s trap.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the ring on the warlock’s finger began to cycle blue as he slipped it into his adjacent palm. Pressing the light to his temple, Connor closed his eyes and drew his power through his conduit to the tips of his fingers. The conduit began to cycle yellow as he pushed his magic out into the house, creating an image behind his eyes of every wall and door the power passed over.

It was only as it reached the witch’s library that the conduit turned immediately red.

His brother was being attacked.

“Shit!” Connor swore under his breath, breaking into a sprint before taking the stairs two at a time. Power weaved between the webbing of his fingers as he ran, focusing all of his will into the ball of fire licking painlessly against his palm.   
Cold fear coiled in his gut as he stumbled down the hallway, jaw clenched as he readied a spell on the tip of his tongue. Nines was the only family he had left, and he would fight through Hell itself to ensure that his brother remained happy, breathing, alive.

With a wave of his free hand, power surged from the conduit and bubbled into the dense wood of the study’s door. Hinges screamed as they pulled like weeds from the frame, sending the door off balance and too the floor with a resounding boom.

“Get away from--”

 

**“What the fuck, Connor!”**

 

Having launched onto the fallen door, fireball prepared to throw, Connor found himself in the awkward position of finding his beloved brother half-naked on his couch--robes discarded into a bundle on the floor next to his shoes.

And straddling his waist was an equally naked, equally pissed, very human Gavin Reed.

The fireball fizzled away with a wheeze as the warlock found himself lost for words. “I-I..”

Nines let out a groan as he laid back onto the couch, slapping a palm over his eyes as his cheeks burned pink with embarrassment. “I really need to update my wards.”

The fae detective scoffed, crossing his arms as he sat back against the blushing witch’s thigh, glaring daggers at a flabbergasted Connor. The soft points of his ears twitched angrily.

_‘Yeah. Make sure you specifically block ugly assholes from stumbling into your home when I’m half-hard.’_

Nines smiled as he continued to press his palm into his eyes, amused at the voice tickling the back of his mind; Whispered into his ear like a lover’s promise.

_‘Connor is more persistent than you know,’_ The witch thought, dropping his hand to smirk up at the agitated man straddling his thighs. _‘He would break through my wards on principle alone, regardless of the reason for blocking him out.’_

The detective scoffed, uncoiling his arms from across his chest to grab his shirt from the back of the couch. _‘Fuck Connor.’_

Nines chuckled as he sat up, pulling his legs out from under Gavin as the shirt was being pulled over his head, The detective let out a soft grumble as a chaste kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth, arm halfway through his sleeve.

Pushing his arm through the sleeve, Gavin pressed forward into the witch, capturing his mouth with his own as the hand to his clothed arm brushed Nines’ collar to cup the side of his neck. A large palm grabbed the detective’s hip, pulling him bodily against the other.

Unfortunately, they were no longer alone.

A throat clearing brought their attention back to a stunned, but less so, Connor, who shifted awkwardly in the doorway of the room. The conduit had been removed from his temple and returned to his ring finger, twisting along his knuckle at the fiddling of his other hand.

“...How did this happen?”

Gavin glared as he shifted entirely off of Nines, punching his arm through the remaining sleeve in frustration.

The witch merely sighed and climbed to his feet, unbothered by his half-dressed state as he crossed the room. “I returned him to his human form as you requested,” Nines shrugged, sending his power out with a wave of his hand to restore the shattered frame of the door. “I would think that much would be obvious.”

Connor frowned as he watched Nines work, brows furrowing at the ease at which the younger man’s magic flowed from his fingers. The heavy wood of the door groaned as it sat up of its own volition, slotting back into the frame with a gentle click.

It shouldn’t have been that easy without a conduit…

“I meant--”

“He wants to know when we started banging,” Gavin called from the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he watched from a reclined slump.

Connor’s face went scarlet in tandem with the soft ‘ah’ that passed over the witch’s lips. Nines brows rose as he glanced to Connor, smirking as the elder warlock spluttered for words.

“I-I-I didn’t-- T-that’s--”

“We haven’t,” Nines hummed, flicking his fingers as the metal hinges slotted back into the doorframe with short, metallic clangs. A soft hysterical laugh bubbled past Connor’s lips at Gavin’s grumbled ‘No thanks to you’.

“Okay,” The warlock breathed, scrubbing a palm over his face in an attempt to recollect himself. “Okay. This isn’t my business. I don’t want to know, I don’t need to know. Just…”  
The ‘How?’ that passed Connor's lips sounded like a strangled scream, discomfort clear in the square of his shoulders and the flush still coloring his cheeks. Small mercy came in the press of Nines’ hand to the small of his back, forcing the warlock forward to the nearby chair set at the corner of the couch.

Forcing his brother to sit, Nines fell into a crouch at his knees and offered the man his hand--palm up and exposed. Icy eyes watched the bob of Connor’s Adam's apple as he swallowed before pressing his own palm to the other.

The warlock went rigid.

“....This is impossible magic,” Connor whispered, staring past Nines as he took in the spectral, twining power that traveled the square walls of the library. Following threads from end to end brought his gaze between both men; connected, halves, familiar.

“That’s what I thought as well,” Nines replied, voice as similarly hushed as if sharing a precious secret. “Two humans should never have had the capabilities to become familiars. It has always been animal, spirit, and witch. But--”

“He was a cat.”

“Mm, biologically and completely. Fae magic is quite strange,” The witch murmured, running his thumb across his brother’s knuckles as the warlock continued to stare at the spectral magic with childlike wonder. “To be fair, he technically still is but once the agreement was set he gained my powers and unlocked his own.”

Connor turned his gaze down to Nines’, excitement the new shade coloring his cheeks. “And you gained his. Jesus Christ Nines…. You might be the most powerful witch in Det--”

“I’d rather not be. That would be… devastating,” The witch murmured, casting a glance back to Gavin while gnawing his lip. “I… Amanda mustn't know. You need to take Gavin with you.”

A resigned groan sounded from the couch behind the witch as Gavin sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he glared at the back of the witch’s head. “You think that bitch--”

_“Don’t call her that.”_

“--won’t see that power all over you? Why are you sticking around? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Nines frowned, turning to level his gaze on the irritated detective. “It’s not that simple…”

“Seems pretty fucking simple to me,” Gavin muttered, digging his nails into the fabric of his jeans. “As easy as an address change and ‘fuck you, mom’.”

Connor frowned, wringing his hands. “It actually isn’t… I had to do… many unsavory things to sever my ties with Amanda. When we were her wards, we were sworn body and soul to her service even if allegiance at that time was son to mother, mother to son. To cut those strings is to bargain with death.”

Nines reached out and took hold of Gavin’s knee, sensing the muted distress that the man was too proud to give voice. “If I were to renounce myself from Amanda entirely, I would be fine. It may take time to regain the power I chose to forfeit, but I’d still be alive.

“However, I do not plan to leave her.”

Gavin stared down at the witch and sneered, pushing the man’s hand off of his knee as he stood. “You’re fucking insane. Hot, but insane,” He grumbled, raking a hand through his hair as he stepped away from the couch. “Detroit's about to burst like a fucking water balloon, and you’re fine being used by the crazy bitch running the shitshow.”

“Gavin--”

“Look,” The detective snapped, turning on his heel and raising his hands to quiet the room. “I like you, and that’s a fucking feat in itself--but I was telling the truth when I said that I don’t want to get involved with magic or wars or faes or whatever. You helped me out, and I’m grateful, but I didn’t sign up for whatever this is.”

“You signed your soul to mine, as I did to yours,” Nines muttered, climbing to his feet to face the irritated detective. “You’re involved whether you like it or not. Do you truly believe I enjoy the idea that I will be used in the coming war?”

“You don’t plan to do shit about it!” Gavin snarled, throwing his arm out as if he was exposing the man’s darkest truths. “What makes you think you have a right to bitch about the taste when you’re pissing in the fucking soup?”

  
Connor’s soft ‘that’s disgusting’ went ignored as the two glared at each other, avoiding the remnant sensation of lips on flesh.

“By all means, you’re free to go, Detective Reed,” The witch hissed, flicking his wrist to open the door with a loud snap against the wall. “Should you require any further assistance you can reach me through Connor. I am a rather busy man after all.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Gavin stared the witch down before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. Nines shoulders remained rigid as he listened to the stomps down the stairs before the front door gave a resounding boom as it was pulled shut with a yank.

 

_‘Why do you always fuck up?’_

 

The witch let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes.

Connor stood from where he was sitting, stepping over to his little brother as his shoulders sagged. “Richard…”

 

_‘Why do you have to fucking push?’_

 

“I’m fine,” The witch muttered, allowing himself to be turned and pulled into a hug. Resting his chin on the warlock’s shoulder, Nines clenched lids beneath a furrowed brow and focused on the circle being rubbing into his shoulder.

 

_‘God he was hot. This fucking sucks.’_

 

Nines let out a small, breathy laugh. ‘Gavin, you’re incredibly loud. I’d still like to see you, and you’re welcome to come back at your leisure. Please call, though. I don’t want you to stumble in when Amanda is visiting.’

_‘I also think you are quite attractive.’_

The witch smiled into the fabric of Connor’s jacket as a rush of embarrassment flooded down the link. _‘Or a better idea. You tell your mom to fuck off back to her arctic circle in Hell, and you come to stay with me. I’ve got a killer bed and a cat--Shit! My cat!’_

The witch laughed.

“Gavin wants to know who has been caring for his cat during his ailment,” Nines asked, pulling back from Connor’s hug.

The warlock blinked. “Tina, of course. She was rather insistent when she learned he was, uh, out of town.”

Nines nodded.

_‘I believe a woman named Tina has been caring for your ca--’_

_‘Oh thank god… Butternut better not be green… Alright, listen. If you aren’t gonna leave her, but you don’t plan to really aid her, I have an idea--’_

Turning, Nines left Connor to his own devices as he crossed to the fireplace to start kettle, silent as he listened to the whisper against his ear. Pausing, the witch blinked as he pondered the possibilities of the man’s proposal before resuming the task.

Taking two teacups from a nearby cabinet, the man placed them gingerly on the table before glancing to his brother.

“Connor.”

The warlock blinked. “Hm?”

Nines smirked, ignoring the obnoxious excitement radiating off of the bond between himself and one irritating detective.

 

“Is the DPD hiring? I believe it might be time for a career change.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading this stupid little thing. I'm honestly astonished at the amount of feedback I've received over the last few months. Waking up to find comments in my inbox or art people drew of these dumb magic boys is such an incredible, flattering sensation.
> 
> The next fic in this series will be a case fic on the investigation of the Zlatko vampire coven as well as an adjustment period for Nines and Gavin in figuring out just what their relationship is at this point? 
> 
> Are they dating or is that witch's tongue just magic?
> 
> Thank you again for reading and sharing and commenting and arting and translating and--oh goodness. God bless.
> 
> As I end with all my chapters, if you enjoyed what you read please consider dropping a Kudos and/or Comment below! 
> 
> Thank you!


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